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Literature Text
I loved a girl – she smelled like August melancholy,
sweeter still,
she carried the scent of festival emotions,
tempered by the midnight flames
and fireflies' glow.
I loved a girl – her hair, the gentle hue of embers,
reflected dancing candlelight,
while in her eyes, as brown as mahogany,
I discovered tiny galaxies,
but most importantly – I saw my smile.
I loved a girl – I sensed her heartbeat,
playing to the rhythm of my breath.
Her every word,
imprinted tender cherry blossoms,
onto my soul.
I loved a girl – her lips tasted like morning air
cool against my heavy forehead,
her skin, softer than satin threads,
played games with the waning moonbeams -
its gravity, I could not resist, like the Sun,
cannot escape the zenith, on Summer solstice.
I loved a girl – she made me happy,
and sadly - I love her still.
sweeter still,
she carried the scent of festival emotions,
tempered by the midnight flames
and fireflies' glow.
I loved a girl – her hair, the gentle hue of embers,
reflected dancing candlelight,
while in her eyes, as brown as mahogany,
I discovered tiny galaxies,
but most importantly – I saw my smile.
I loved a girl – I sensed her heartbeat,
playing to the rhythm of my breath.
Her every word,
imprinted tender cherry blossoms,
onto my soul.
I loved a girl – her lips tasted like morning air
cool against my heavy forehead,
her skin, softer than satin threads,
played games with the waning moonbeams -
its gravity, I could not resist, like the Sun,
cannot escape the zenith, on Summer solstice.
I loved a girl – she made me happy,
and sadly - I love her still.
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Literature
how to become a writer.
don't.
stay away from
pencils and pens.
don't look
at keyboards
or at blank pages
of notebook paper.
don't submit
to the emerald sigh of
vellichor,
the shredded sheets
of everything,
everything you've worked
your whole life to run away from.
don't live in the moment.
let love and fear float by,
just a skimming whisper,
because a whisper
is better than nothing.
a whisper is better
than the brittle falling-apart
of kairosclerosis.
suffer from catoptric tristesse,
but don't think about it
(for too long, anyways.)
look at the mirror
but never look yourself
in the eye,
because who knows what you've become?
don't write what you're feeling.
y
Literature
sunday girl
i watch you shuffle through the kitchen
and i can feel my fingers softening
and my mind crashing but there are so many
things i want to scream at you, like:
how on earth did you learn to love me
when there are continents forming between my ankles,
when i'm stuck in the middle of a road and there's
a car coming right for me and i just stand and wait,
and how on earth could anyone
have so many freckles between their shoulder blades and
why is it that when you nestle your stupid head into
the spaces between my ribs all i can say is
that your hair smells like September 25th, 2012,
or how your eyes look like pages of an atlas
and that i want
Literature
Less Than Lost
I tried finding it
in the hips of a
flight attendant
on the way to Buffalo.
I tried finding it
in the obscene
identical
rows of houses
outside Chicago.
In the petal
hair of girls
who do not
want me,
in the eyes of a
thousand hungry
dogs
older than I'll ever be.
In the feather rain
falling gentle,
consistent.
In fields of indian corn
unharvested
purple, yellow, blue,
yellow, red,
yellow.
On the backs of
freight trains, in
drugs and drugs.
I searched for it
in the flat, coastal
forever of Florida;
I searched for it in the
poetic types
and in the ridges
of my nails,
escape is
nowhere
to be
found
and
we
are
all
here.
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I am really proud with myself with this one, hope you like it too.
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Comments40
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I don't know why it is, but when I get heartbroken, I purposely look for poems that tells about heartbreak/one sided love and other topics, that are going to make me even more sad.
But I love it.
And I also hate it.
And I also love this poem.
I kinda knew how this poem was going to end, cause it was just like reading my thoughts on a paper, written by someone else, and damn is it written well!
Thank you.
Though it feels a bit strange to say it when I got even more sad after reading this.
But I love it.
And I also hate it.
And I also love this poem.
I kinda knew how this poem was going to end, cause it was just like reading my thoughts on a paper, written by someone else, and damn is it written well!
Thank you.
Though it feels a bit strange to say it when I got even more sad after reading this.